


Oestrus On The Open Water

by Reprehensible_Content



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Cunnilingus, Fuck Or Die, Joxter and Moomin get some good ole P in V for good measure, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Trans Male Character, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Vaginal Fingering, joxter has a cat peen, trans moomin, trans muddler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 07:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20870795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reprehensible_Content/pseuds/Reprehensible_Content
Summary: Hodgkins is worried about Muddler; he hasn't seen him in days, and when he finally finds him, the poor boy is sick. But not just any kind of sick; Muddler's in heat, and that might mean that he's in a lot of trouble...





	Oestrus On The Open Water

**Author's Note:**

> Usual warnings apply, comrades. Please don't read if this is likely to upset you. Incest is front and centre in this one.
> 
> Muddler's fillyjonk biology is based on ferrets 

“Have you seen Muddler?” Hodgkins’ voice was coloured by an uncharacteristic concern. “I feel like I haven’t seen him in days.”

“I suspect he’s sulking,” Joxter replied lazily. He was lounging on a sun-warmed crate, one leg swinging over the side. He smirked when Hodgkins scowled at him.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d take this seriously.”

Joxter yawned and rolled into an extravagant stretch. “Check his tin.”

Hodgkins hesitated. “That… would be the most sensible thing. Only…”

“What?” Joxter asked bluntly. 

“I don’t like to bother him when he’s in there. I worry that I might end up crowding or coddling him, you know?”

“Oh, I sympathise entirely. Too much affection makes a child soft.”

Hodgkins snorted, thanking the stars that someone like Joxter was likely too inert to sire any offspring.

“Still…” He wrung his hands and paced the deck anxiously. Joxter watched, his tail starting to swat in agitation.

“Look,” he huffed, “this is really far too much movement for me to be dealing with if I’m to take my prescribed daily siesta. _I’ll_ go and check his tin, and then you can scold me for being nosey, hmm?”

Hodgkins paused mid-stride. “Well, I suppose that would…”

“Well, then.” Joxter flopped unceremoniously to the floor, somehow but unsurprisingly landing on his feet, to amble past Hodgkins and towards the Muddler’s coffee tin. He was about to rap his knuckles on the rounded side when he stopped and scented the air.

“What? What is it?”

“Don’t you smell that?” 

Hodgkin sniffed; it smelt of Muddler (sort of flowery and fabric-y), and beneath that the smell of rusting tin and saltwater.

“Smell what?”

Joxter inhaled a huge lungful of air; when his eyes snapped open his pupils were blown wide in the way they were when he was hunting small animals, which Hodgkins found vaguely perturbing. Before he could stop him, the mumrik had scaled the side of the tin and popped the lid open as quickly as one might say ‘sardines’. Then he perched on the edge of the tin, staring down at its contents.

“Is he in there?” Hodgkins called up. Joxter didn’t answer; his gaze was fixed at the bottom of the can. The predatory flick of his tail made Hodgkins nervous, so he hauled himself up to take a look for himself. Leaning over the rim, he saw what had so captured Joxter’s attention; his nephew, stretched out and panting, seemingly unconscious.

“What ho, Muddler!” Hodgkins called down. He started to panic when he didn’t stir. “He must be sick,” he said, dropping to scale down Muddler’s pile of particulars. As he reached his nephew, he was hit with a wall of scent that made him realise what it was that Joxter had found so entrancing. It was a sweet, hormonal smell, reminiscent of vanilla and jasmine flowers, which made his stomach drop and his mouth water.

Mentally, he cursed. Why here? Why now?

Still, the situation was what it was, and being a pragmatic soul, Hodgkins reasoned that he couldn’t just leave Muddler to the stuffy confines of his tin. Gathering the little creature into the crook of one arm, he lifted himself out by the strength of the other and dropped back down to the deck. Joxter landed next to him and crowded in too close.

“Oh!” he cooed, just a little too concerned. “Is he ill? The poor dab! We should _tend_ to him, captain.” There was a bend in the way he said ‘tend’ that Hodgkins didn’t like.

“Don’t worry, Joxter,” he answered, hoisting the Muddler protectively against his chest, “I will.”

The mumrik simply snickered and trailed behind as Hodgkins carried his nephew to his cabin, where he placed him on his bed with a care usually reserved for precious cargo. He swept the hair off Muddler’s face to press a palm against his forehead; the kid had a temperature and was sweating by the bucketload.

“By the Booble, he’s hotter than a furnace.”

“I’ll say,” chuckled Joxter, watching closely and smiling with needly-sharp teeth. Hodgkins grunted and shoved him back from the bunk. He retrieved a basin of water and a washcloth from his nightstand; he wet the cloth, wrung it out, then pressed it to his nephew’s burning brow.

“Uh…uhhhhh…” Muddler’s eyes fluttered open. He went to sit up, but Hodgkins caught him gently by the shoulder.

“Easy, lad. There now, lie back down.”

Muddler allowed himself to fall back against the sheets, his eyes staring unfocused at the ceiling.

“So?” Joxter was leaning on the dresser, cleaning out his pipe; he ignored the glare Hodgkins gave him as he tapped its contents out onto the floor. “What’s your diagnosis, _Doctor_ Frederickson?”

“Go and fetch Moomin.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Hodgkins motioned towards the door. “Go and get Moomin.”

Joxter looked surprised, then shrugged in a manner that said ‘if you say so’ and slipped from the room. Hodgkins sighed and turned his attention back to his ward. He wet the cloth again and set it to cool his feverish skin.

“Uncle?” Muddler’s voice was faint. “Uncle Hodgkins?”

“Yes… yes, that’s right.” Hodgkins’ couldn’t help an affectionate little smile. His hand slid down to cup his cheek, tracing the constellation of freckles under his thumb.

“What’s… what’s happening to me, Uncle?” His voice was so plaintive that his heart damn-well near broke.

“I’m not entirely certain.” Hodgkins hesitated; he didn’t want the boy to panic. “But I think you’re in heat, son.”

“In _heat_?” Muddler balked. “I… I can’t be… I-I don’t want to…”

“It’s alright! It’ll be alright, I promise…”

“I… I didn’t think… I just thought it was a fever! I didn’t...” He was growing wild. “Uncle, please, what do we _do_? I don’t want to… to…”

Hodgkins shushed him as he sobbed, brushing away the hot tears spilling from his eyes. So much for not panicking.

“How do you feel?”

“H-hot… mmnh…‘n tingly…”

“And how long have you been feeling this way?”

“Two… maybe three weeks? Although it only got really bad in the last couple of days.”

Hodgkins sucked air in through his teeth. “As long as that?”

Muddler glanced away like a guilty puppy. “I tried…you know…” he wriggled, blushing. “_Touching_ myself. But it didn’t help, so I assumed I was just sick.”

“Ah.” Hodgkins tried to ignore the way his insides squirmed at the thought of his nephew, holed up in the coffee tin, air echoing with his little pants, trousers unbuckled and playing with himself… no. No, _no_. He absolutely wasn’t going to think like that.

“I should have told you sooner, Uncle.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I just… didn’t want you to think I was being a baby.”

Hodgkins huffed fondly. “Muddler, I wouldn’t mind if it were nothing at all; if you’re ever feeling unwell, I would prefer to know.”

Muddler smiled gratefully and nuzzled into Hodgkins’ palm, sending a prickle of affection down his spine. At least, he hoped it was affection. He placed his thumb under Muddler’s eye and pulled gently. He bit his lip; the waterline was pale. He moved his hand to his nephew’s mouth and pulled gently to part his lips. His gums were pallid too – that wasn’t a good sign. Hodgkins then couldn’t ignore Muddler’s skin, singing with heat. He pressed two fingers under the angle of his jaw to where he could feel the flicker of a bounding pulse.

“Your heart is racing,” he said, without knowing why it was necessary to comment.

“It feels like I just ran up three flights of stairs,” Muddler whimpered.

“I’m sure it does, you poor thing.” 

He jumped when the pads of Muddler’s fingers grazed his wrist.

“Uncle?” he whispered. “Could you… could you open my shirt? I’m so _hot_…”

The breath caught in his throat. “Of course.”

Releasing Muddler’s face, he undid the safety pin at his neck and gently pulled his scarf loose. Tipping the boy’s chin up, he popped the buttons of his shirt open. He wet the cloth again before pressing it into the crook of his nephew’s neck; the boy sighed in relief.

Then, to his horror, he saw the rash; a cluster a pinkish-red pinpoint marks across his sternum. He ran his fingers over them gingerly, lest he cause further damage. These were not good signs at all. Pale mucus membranes. Racing heart. What was the word the doctor had used for that pattern of little bruises? Petechiation? All of these were signs of anaemia, and if it had gone on for this long, Muddler could be in serious trouble.

“Well, that didn’t take you long,” Joxter sniggered. Hodgkins leapt back from the bed, dropping the cloth with a wet ‘plap’.

“That’s not what I’m doing here!”

“What’s not what you’re doing here?” Moomin peeked out from behind Joxter.

“Moomin, thank goodness. I’ve got a favour to ask…”

“Not so fast, captain,” Joxter butted in, smirking nastily. “There’s a hole in your plan.”

“What do you…” He realised all too quickly what Joxter meant as a wave of scent followed Moomin into the room. Hodgkins choked as its perfume filled his nostrils; it was muskier than Muddler’s, earthier – dirtier, dare he say it.

“Moomin… are you…”

“In peak season?” Moomin flushed delicately beneath snowy fur. “I’m afraid I am. Although I’m unusually early; I hadn’t expected to ‘come in’ for another couple of weeks.”

“I think I know why that might be.” Hodgkins glanced down at the sweaty body wriggling to sit upright on the bed.

“Is- is it because of me?” Muddler tried and failed to close his shirt. “I’m- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! Oh Moomin, I’m so sorry!”

“Oh, it’s alright! You didn’t…” Moomin stepped forward to comfort him only to stop and sway in place. “You… Goodness, you’re in strong…” It wasn’t said with malice, but poor Muddler immediately burst into tears. Hodgkins sped back to his side, bundling him up against him.

“I’m just going to speak to our crewmates, alright?” He kissed him gently atop the forehead. “We’ll be back in a moment.” He got up; Joxter started to argue but wasn’t able to get a word in edgeways before a pair of burly arms had hustled Moomin and himself out into the corridor.

“Alright Hodgkins,” he spat, as soon as the door was closed, “what are you playing at?”

“Can’t you see?” Hodgkins hissed a whisper in return. “The boy’s in heat!”

“Of _course_ the boy’s in heat! I know pheromones like that when I smell them.”

“I’m not sure I see what the problem is,” Moomin admitted nervously. “You can just let him ride it out, can’t you?”

“It’s not…” Hodgkin sighed and squeezed his temples. “It’s not as simple as that. His papa was the same as me, obviously, but his mama was a fillyjonk.”

“And?”

“It’s a species quirk; I had it described to me by a doctor once,” Hodgkins explained in a grave tone. “If one of his kind goes unmated, then the high levels of oestrogens produced during heat may cause bone marrow suppression. That in turn causes anaemia and problems with clotting, which can lead to haemorrhage and death.”

Moomin stared, taken aback. Joxter, a master of appropriate timing, chuckled.

“So you mean to say that he might literally die from blue balls?”

Hodgkins snorted. “It’s more like blue ovaries, but in essence, that’s right. That’s why I’ve asked you here, Moomin.”

Moomin winced; Joxter looked deeply offended.

“M-me? Why me?”

Hodgkins shifted uncomfortably. “I’m afraid the only way I know how to deal with this is the way in which my brother took care of it for his wife, if you catch my meaning. It’s a miracle that they didn’t have more children, honestly.”

To his dismay, Moomin shook his head. “I don’t think I can do that, captain.”

Hodgkin made a confounded noise. “Well, you’re in heat too, aren’t you? Couldn’t the two of you…” He indicated frantically at the door to where his nephew lay beyond. “You know? If we left you alone?”

Moomin laughed awkwardly. “I’m scarcely in any condition to be on top deck, let alone top someone who’s in heat.”

“Oh, well that _is_ a shame,” Joxter drawled, waltzing over to the door handle. “Well, not to worry! Leave him with me for an hour or so, I’ll take _good_ care of him…”

“No!” Hodgkins slapped his palm against the mumrik’s chest, winding him. “No! No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh come now, what’s the matter? You know I can handle myself in the sack; I’ve taken _quite_ good care of you on more than one occasion, if memory serves.” He sidled up to his captain. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Absolutely not!” Hodgkins shoved him away, blushing furiously. “And it’s experience of you and your… ‘behaviour’ that means I know that I’m not letting you anywhere near my nephew!”

Joxter huffed in frustration. “Then who’s going to do it, _capitain_? If Moomin _can’t_ do it, and you won’t _let_ me, that just leaves…” He drew the last word out, circling his head as he waited for the penny to drop.

Hodgkins caught his drift and his eyes went wide.

“We’ll… stop at the next port…”

“Oh?” Joxter pressed. “Will he make it that far?”

“He’s going to have to…”

“He’s already in a state, Hodgkins!” Joxter had dropped the joking tone, and his voice was getting louder. “Just let me do this for him! Let me help him, Hodgkins.”

Hodgkins was just about to bark at him to shut up when the door flew open to reveal the subject of discussion. They all froze; evidently their conversation had not been as private as they had thought.

“Uncle, I don’t…” Fat tears welled up in Muddler’s eyes and rolled steadily down his cheeks. “I don’t wanna _die_, Uncle!”

“You won’t die, Muddler, I promise…”

“Hodgkins, please,” Joxter hissed, “I know I’m not your idea of a good match for your boy, but I care about him, and I don’t want anything to happen to him just as much as you…”

“It’s not that!” Hodgkins groaned, aghast; the little sobs being emitted from his cherished nephew were driving him into a panic. “He’s too fragile.”

“I’ll be gentle!”

“It’s not- Augh!” He took Muddler as gently by the shoulder as he could manage and moved the boy’s hands from covering his chest. “This bruising,” Hodgkins ran his fingers over Muddler’s fluttering skin. “It’s lots of little blood vessels that have all broken down. It this is what the mere pressure of clothing can do, then I worried that when you put your… you know…” He glanced bashfully at Joxter’s crotch. “Inside him, it might cause internal bleeding.”

“I… I thought it was just heat flush…” Muddler started hyperventilating. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh! Am I dying?!”

Joxter was genuinely speechless, eyeing the pinpoint speckling on Muddler’s skin. Moomin started speaking, worrying at his tail. “I suppose… I suppose I could try…”

“I’ll do it.”

“What?” Joxter gasped, jolting back. Moomin’s ears twitched bolt upright.

“I said, I’ll do it.” Hodgkin folded his arms. Yes, he would do it. It didn’t need to be anything untoward, just a simple, clinical solution to what was in effect a medical problem.

“Go on then.”

“I- What?” He’d expected resistance from the mumrik, so this caught him entirely off guard.

“Go on then,” Joxter repeated, making a prompting motion. “Get to it, man! The boy can hardly wait.”

“I- uh…” He glanced down at his nephew, his heart suddenly in his throat. Muddler blinked shyly at him. Damn, where had his wretched detachment gone?

“Should we… go back to the bed, Uncle?”

“I- yes. Yes, alright.” He took Muddler’s hand and allowed himself to be walked back through the door. The boy sat down and looked up at him, worrying his lip.

“What should I do first?”

Hodgkins blinked; he felt frozen.

“Try taking off your trousers,” Joxter prompted from somewhere behind him. Hodgkins was inclined to turn around and smack him, but Muddler took the advice and wiggled out of his pants, revealing his white cotton underwear. Hodgkins’ mouth went dry.

“U-uncle?”

He shook himself; he had to get a grip. The bed sank under his weight as he knelt next to his nephew.

“Lie back for me. That’s it. Now,” he took hold of the waistband. “Lift your hips.”

The moment the clothing was pulled away, the smell intensified. Muddler whimpered at the sudden rush of exposure and cool air, tipping his legs open to give his uncle better access. His vulva was swollen and glistening moist. Hodgkins stared, helpless to do otherwise; all he was capable of in this moment was imagining taking Muddler in his mouth like a ripe peach.

A low whistle from over his shoulder indicated that they had an audience.

“Don’t you have somewhere else you could be?” he snapped.

Moomin looked sheepish, whereas Joxter simply shrugged. 

“I suppose we do, but I, for one, would rather be here. For emotional support,” he added, winking.

Hodgkins snorted. “Well, just stay out of the way.” Turning back to Muddler, he put his hand on his belly and drew slow circles around his navel.

“If I do anything you don’t like,” he murmured, “just let me know, okay?”

His nephew nodded, trembling at the tickle of his light touches. Hodgkins watched for his approval, then looked down to his quivering pussy and slid two fingers down over the plump flesh.

“Oh Uncle!” The boy cried out and grabbed his arm. “Oh, it’s so sensitive!”

Hodgkins made a strained noise. The boy’s cunt was already sodden; it would be so easy to get his cock out and slide up into him. He felt himself getting hard in his jumpsuit, which he ignored. Instead, he ran the pad of one finger up to the top of his vulva until he found the firm nub of the clitoris.

Muddler’s eyes went wide. “_U-uncle_?”

“It’s alright,” Hodgkins cooed in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “I just want to warm you up.” He kissed his temple as the boy watched his hand making neat little swirls against his clit.

“He’s already pretty warm, Hodge.” Joxter cackled when he glared at him.

“Uncle, _please_!” Muddler was scrabbling at the sheets, grabbing great handfuls of fabric. “Oh please, I can’t _bear_ it!”

“Alright,” Hodgkins kissed him again. “Alright.” He slipped down to where Muddler’s vagina waited with a fresh burst of fluid and dipped his finger inside. Muddler cried out and balled his hands up in the front of his jumpsuit, begging him to continue when he hesitated. He worked in up to the second knuckle before bending his finger to coax along the vaginal wall.

“So it doesn’t have to be a dick?”

Hodgkins grimaced at Joxter’s running commentary. “No. He just needs mechanical stimulation.”

“Oh. Well, I could have done that…”

“Claws, Joxter.” He could remember them all too well, scratching down his back and up his thighs.

“Ugh. They’re retractable you know.” Joxter pouted. “Well, his loss, I suppose. _Now then_.” He turned to Moomin, rubbing his paws and smiling in the way one does when one is a serpent about to engulf a small rodent. “Moomin.”

“Joxter.” Moomin retreated from his advancing crewmate, only to end up pinned against the dresser. Joxter pressed up against him, rolling his body into the downy white coat.

“I’m rather flustered,” he muttered, grinning into the hollow of Moomin’s neck, “what with all these pheromones floating around.”

“Blasted things,” Moomin gasped, taking hold of Joxter’s shoulders as his hips started to thrust against the mumrik’s thighs.

“Mmm, quite so. I can only imagine how you must be suffering.”

“You aren’t exactly helping on that front,” Moomin retorted.

“Oh? Shall I stop?”

Moomin yelped when he did just that, standing stock still for him to grind ineffectually against his body. Joxter grinned at him like a bear trap.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, pushing in for a greedy kiss.

“Could you two _please_ take this somewhere else?!” Hodgkins was utterly exasperated.

“Uncle, it’s- it’s okay. I- I think I like it? Watching them, I mean.” Muddler hid his face in his hands. “Sorry if that’s creepy…”

“Oh, it’s alright!” replied Joxter, who was in the process of dragging Moomin to the floor, “if it helps, then I’m sure we’d be more than happy to oblige!”

“Speak for yourself…” Moomin was cut off by a helpless squeak as Joxter shoved his legs open.

“This is _exactly_ why I didn’t want you anywhere near my nephew,” Hodgkins grumbled. He was distracted by Muddler tugging at his collar.

“Uncle?” he whispered, “could you kiss me?” 

Hodgkins swallowed in a dry click and placed a chaste peck on the bow of his mouth. Muddler shook his head.

“That’s nice,” he said, “but I want you to kiss me like that.” He nodded over to where Joxter had Moomin pinned to the ground; they were making out with gusto, fingers clawing roughly at one another. Hodgkins cringed at the tingle that flashed across his loins.

“I shouldn’t kiss you like that, Muddler.”

“Please?” Muddler took hold of his shoulder to hoist himself up towards his face. “Oh please, Uncle. We’ll stop if you don’t like it. I just want to kiss you, please let me kiss you, oh please…”

Hodgkins couldn’t bear another moment and covered his nephew’s babbling mouth with his own. He tasted the pheromones immediately, together with that sweet and flowery something. Muddler moaned and wound his arms around his neck, letting his uncle move his lips and his tongue against him, rolling his hips onto the finger inside him. 

Over on the other side of the room, Joxter was eating Moomin out with wild abandon, swallowing between wet, guttural grunts. He nuzzled vigorously, dragging his coarse cheeks over Moomin’s sensitive flesh and smearing his stubble with slick.

“Mmmph-guhh, Moomin,” he groaned (somewhat muffled by the lips of Moomin’s pussy), “you taste so _good_, Moomin!” His partner wailed, writhing beneath him, completely devoid of words. He hooked his elbows under Moomin’s thighs to give him the purchase he needed to grind down on Joxter’s rough tongue.

Muddler’s eyes flicked over to them and he huffed into Hodgkins mouth.

“Uncle?”

Hodgkins hummed, stilling slightly.

“Could you, um…” Muddler looked back again at the shameless display on the other side of the room. “Could we… like that?”

“Yes,” his uncle breathed. He kissed Muddler’s chin, then his throat, then down the line of his chest and abdomen. He paused at the rise of his mound to look up at his face; his nephew was watching him, quaking, eyes like dinner plates.

He rearranged himself, sliding off the edge of the bed so that he could crouch between Muddler’s thighs while keeping the solitary digit inside him. His vulva glistened with a sheer glaze of slick; this close, the scent of hormones was all-consuming. Hodgkins wet his lips and experimented with a polite lick up its length.

Muddler yelped, legs jolting. Hodgkins guided him to rest his ankles over his shoulder then took him in his mouth again, rolling the outer labia between his lips. The boy squeaked, grabbing at the sheets beneath him for purchase. Hodgkins took one flailing paw in his own, the other still working inside.

“Roll against me,” he panted. Muddler obeyed, grinding down on his open mouth with as much coordination as he could manage. He couldn’t get enough of the salty tang coating his tongue. God, if he could have this pussy as his last meal, he would die a happy man. He sucked and moaned, working his finger with stoic consistency, Muddler’s fluids running down his chin and neck in a slobbery mess.

Across from them, Moomin scrabbled at the floor as his back arched and his body convulsed. His orgasm produced an intoxicating pulse of pheromones that spread like a wave about the room. Joxter leant back on his haunches, his beaming face dripping wet, and lifted his smock to start unbuckling his pants. The little troll was yanked right out of the afterglow by the sensation of a barbed penis rutting up against his pussy.

“Now, sweet thing, I think it’s my turn.”

“It won’t hurt when you put it in,” he asked, looking down with uncertain eyes, “will it?”

“Not in the slightest, kitten,” Joxter purred, the promise oily. Without time for further hesitation, he pushed inside. He snickered, self-satisfied, as he watched Moomin’s eyes roll back with a lascivious moan.

“You better hadn’t hurt him, Joxter,” Hodgkins rumbled in warning.

“Oh, the painful part isn’t the insertion,” Joxter explained with infuriating nonchalance. “It’s the drawback.” At this he pulled out, and the barbs caught and dragged along the walls of Moomin’s pussy. Moomin shrieked and bucked under Joxer’s hands.

“Joxter, will you _please_ be gentle?” 

The mumrik paused with his tip at the entrance, grinning wide and mischievous. “Is that good screaming? Or bad screaming?”

In response, Moomin locked his legs around Joxter’s hips and snarled. “_Fuck_ me, you _utter_ bastard.”

Joxter flashed a smug grin over at Hodgkins. “See?” he said sweetly, “I’m only doing as he’s asked.” With that he pushed back in, right in, almost folding the little troll in half so that he could press a toothy kiss against Moomin’s howling mouth.

Hodgkins felt Muddler’s hands in his hair as the boy shifted to sit up. “Would you like to… put it inside of me?” The boy’s face blushed beautifully. “I mean, I feel like I should take care of you, too. You shouldn’t have to do all the work.”

“No Muddler, it’s alright. I don’t want that.” He was lying, of course. How could he not want to slide inside his nephew’s hot little cunt, feel him clench and spasm around his dick as he listened to the music of him moaning in his ear, clinging to his back for dear life as he fucked the living daylights out of him… “You’re too delicate – you might bleed. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Muddler nodded, disappointed. “Maybe… when I’m not in heat, then?”

Hodgkins ground to a halt. “You… you can’t be asking for…”

“I’m sorry!” Muddler’s eyes grew bright with tears. “I just thought… oh, I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, I’m the one who should be sorry. It’s alright, I just…” He caught Muddler’s hip to keep him still. “I’m your _uncle_.”

Muddler sniffed. “So?”

“This is only alright for me to be doing because you’re in heat. Otherwise, there’s no way I ought to be touching you like this.”

“But I _like_ it.”

“So do I.” Hodgkins groaned helplessly. “God, so do I. But that doesn’t make it right.”

“You’ve come this far, captain,” Joxter hollered cheerily over Moomin’s hysterical keening. “Might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb, eh?”

Hodgkins rested his forehead against Muddler’s pelvis with an exasperated sigh, but Muddler just giggled. “Tell me what you’ll do to me,” he tempted, fondling his uncle’s shaggy ears.

Hodgkins moaned, feeling his resolve giving way. “God, I want to fuck you.”

“You- you do?”

Hodgkins moaned against his vulva. “Oh, _yes_. I want to sit you on my lap and fuck you ‘til you’re screaming. I bet your little cunt feels so good… It’s already tight with just one finger.” He pulled back against his G-spot, making his nephew sob. “And you taste so _good_. I could eat you out for hours.”

“_Unclleee_!!” Muddler threw his head back in rapture.

Managing the multitasking of unbuttoning his jumpsuit with both cunnilingus and fingering was almost more than he could manage, but he got there, his aching cock springing into his waiting palm. He grunted as he stroked himself; Muddler wailed as his filthy vocalisations made his pussy vibrate.

It was all so much; his nephew, his sweet baby boy, screaming as he writhed against his tongue, mingling in with the sound of Joxter practically hammering Moomin into the floorboards, filling the room with the slap of damp skin. He heard Joxter make a strangled noise as the troll shrieked and the room was full of another orgasmic cloud.

“Uncle…” Muddler was fighting for breath. “Uncle, I think I’m going to…”

He came, hard; so hard in fact that he couldn’t even scream and instead emitted a high, drawn-out sound. The rush of pheromones and the sheer delight of his accomplishment pushed him over the edge, and Hodgkins came in his own hand with an embarrassing little yelp.

He huffed, resting his head against Muddler’s thigh; he was suddenly very light-headed. Looking over at his crewmates, he watched Moomin lie boneless and trembling as Joxter ate the seed out of his pussy with surprising care, rubbing soothing circles against his partner’s fluffy hips. Well, he thought, at least he’s providing reasonable aftercare. Speaking of which, he hauled himself up to bring himself level with Muddler. His face was screwed up and wet with tears and sweat. Hodgkins leaned in and kissed him tenderly.

Muddler’s eyes fluttered open. “Is that what I taste like?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

Muddler wrinkled his nose. “I should have washed first.”

Hodgkins laughed breathily. “That’s alright. I liked it just how it was. But washing now would probably be a good idea. How do you feel?”

“Tired. But better.”

“Good.” He gathered the boy up in his arms. “With a bit of luck, the heat should die down in the next couple of days. If not… well.” He chuckled at Muddler’s eager little smile.

“Uncle?”

“Yes, Muddler?”

“I love you, Uncle.”

He gave him another affectionate kiss. “Love you too.”

“Huh.” Joxter rested his elbows on Moomin’s belly and looked down at him. “Should I tell you that I love you too?”

“Not on your life,” Moomin snapped, kicking him firmly in the face.


End file.
